


In Arcadia

by SandraMorningstar



Category: The Borgias (Showtime TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraMorningstar/pseuds/SandraMorningstar
Summary: Cesare Borgia and Micheletto Corella undeniably shared a unique relationship.They were confidants, brothers in arms, co-conspirators and - above all - loyal to each other.They were all that ... and more.





	In Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

> My friend, fellow fic author and beta reader EllaStorm has jumped head first back into the Borgias fandom and this time she dragged me down with her. I have only seen eight or nine episodes so far but I am already in love. 
> 
> So, that's why this fic happened. 
> 
> Its main inspiration was Cesare calling Micheletto "sweet assassin" after they'd just met. (I mean who does that? Cesare Borgia apparently, glorious human being that he is.)

They didn’t call it love.

It would be a dangerous word to use – for them both. Micheletto knew his life would be forfeit the moment anyone found out what passed between him and his lord when they were alone. And Cesare? He was a Borgia and the Pope’s son but Micheletto doubted that would do much to prevent the damage to his image should their relationship ever be dragged into the open.

So they called themselves brothers in arms. Confidants. Called what they shared trust or loyalty and sometimes comfort. Not a single word of it was a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. That, they reserved for each other. Because no matter the circumstance, Micheletto knew he could always count on Cesare to be forthright with him and he returned that courtesy in kind.

It wasn’t a kindness that was afforded often in these troubled times, which was why Micheletto felt it his duty to dispel the dark mood that plagued his lord since his sister Lucrezia had returned to her husband’s side.

He waited for him in front of St. Peter, tucked into the shadow of a large pillar. Cesare nonetheless spotted him the moment he stepped out of the door. He seemed to have a sixth sense for his presence.

“I hope you’re not the bearer of bad news”, Cesare said without preamble, his face stern and his mouth a tense line. “The last few days have already been ripe with them.” He started to walk across the piazza, Micheletto keeping pace.

“No bad news”, he said in assurance.

“To what do I owe the pleasure then”, Cesare replied, a small smile ghosting across his lips that faded as quickly as it had appeared.

“I have two horses waiting at the stables, saddled and packed with a weekend’s worth of supplies”, Micheletto explained, the ease of his words entirely façade. His lord hated having decisions made for him about as much as he hated the fact his brother held the position he desired. “I think a hunting trip is in order. Surely, not even the great Cesare Borgia can subsist entirely on ecclesiastic debate.”

That goaded another smile from Cesare. “No, I suppose not”, he said and let Micheletto take the lead as they walked to the stables.

 

* * *

 

“What quarry are we after, then?”, Cesare said once the rolling hills had been swallowed up by lush, fragrant forests. The ride out here had already seeped some of the tension out of his shoulders. He seemed more at ease.

“Whatever quarry pleases you”, Micheletto said.

“I heard rumours about a small pack of wolves who roam this area”, Cesare said ponderingly.

“Quite the challenge for two people”, Micheletto pointed out. He did not say that it was more akin to a death wish. If anything, it would only spur his lord on. Danger had never stopped Cesare Borgia. A character trait he shared with the rest of his family. They were a tough bunch. Hard to kill and even harder to outsmart. Hopefully that would hold true for the wolves as well. If not, well, that was what he was here for.

“Where would be the fun in a hunt without a challenge”, Cesare said and brought his horse to an easy gallop. He was a graceful rider who knew when to show a firm hand and when to let his horse do the work. Of course, Italy had no shortage of good riders but few of them were truly great. Micheletto had always thought that it came down to the fact that most people gave too little credit to the horse’s instinct. A horse knew where it was safe to tread and when to flee and it knew a bad rider from a mile off.

Cesare trusted his horse, an energetic thoroughbred stallion with a temper to match his own, and had never had reason to regret it.

 

* * *

 

They scouted the area for the rest of the afternoon in search of tracks or any sort of foil the wolves might have left behind. No luck but Micheletto had a hard time counting it as a loss when he looked at Cesare who pursued the wolves with the same meticulousness he devoted to every task, his bad mood momentarily forgotten.

Around midday they rested on a clearing with a small pond. Cesare took the opportunity to take a swim. Never one for modesty, he stripped completely and left it to him to guard their belongings. He did and even found the time to decimate the local population of small critters, namely two rabbits whose warren he came upon during one of his rounds. He was skinning them when Cesare emerged from the pond. Micheletto allowed his gaze to linger on the rivulets of water running along Cesares muscles and built torso.

“I could live like this”, Cesare announced as he flopped down onto the grass next to him, still naked.

“Like what?”, Micheletto asked calmly, keeping his attention on the now-skinned rabbits.

“A simple man”, Cesare clarified and Micheletto had trouble keeping a straight face. His lord continued: “I wouldn’t have to contend with politics nor intrigue. Instead I’d tend my fields.”

“And submit to someone else’s rule?” Micheletto snorted. “I doubt it. Besides, you would grow bored. A field couldn’t hold your attention longer than a grain of sand could God’s.”

“You’re uncharacteristically poetic today, my sweet assassin”, Cesare noticed with a teasing smirk.

“You must be imagining things”, Micheletto retorted dryly. “I’m no poet.”

“No, not quite. Poets are rarely this blasphemous”, Cesare said with a huffed laugh. He turned on his side, his attention now fully on Micheletto.

“I’m afraid you’re reading the wrong poets then.” Micheletto couldn’t help the jab. There were precious little areas of expertise where he could claim to be ahead of his lord but bawdy verses were undeniably one of them.

“Enlighten me then”, Cesare said, eyes sparkling with interest. “I’m always keen to broaden my horizons.”

“I know” Micheletto said, sounding very much unfazed even though he wasn’t. “You demonstrated that quite clearly.” He finished preparing the rabbits and set to making a fire. From experience, he knew that giving in too quickly to Cesare would only unnecessarily stroke his ego, which was why he did his utmost to avoid it.

It was a hassle, though. Micheletto wasn’t used to this excessive back and forth. The way he’d always gone about things was to meet someone, maybe have a drink with them and then go somewhere private and get on with it.

“Such a cruel mood you’re in today”, Cesare said and pulled at Micheletto’s shirt until it slid off his shoulder. Then, in an instant, he had him pinned to the ground and was straddling him. Micheletto could have stopped him if he’d wanted to – he was an assassin after all – but there was no need for it.

Cesare smiled triumphantly. He caught one of Micheletto’s wrists and brought his hand, still bloody from skinning the rabbits, to his mouth and licked them. The blood stained his lips red. “My sweet, sweet assassin”, he breathed.

Micheletto felt his whole being brim with elation and desire. Without thinking, he reached out and touched his lord, stroking along his length, something he’d never done unbidden before. Cesare pushed into it and smirked wickedly. He released Micheletto’s hand and made quick work of removing the assassin’s trousers.

Neither of them was keen on more pomp and circumstance after they had crossed this line. Especially because there was always a chance someone would come through here, even this far into the woods.

This was the part Micheletto loved.

Cesare was rough and handsy. He kept one hand buried in his hair and used the other to skilfully edge him closer to release. Micheletto allowed himself to become pliable under his lord’s touch – opening up in a way he’d never done for anyone.

Apparently, Cesare noticed because he doubled his efforts, grinding into him with forceful passion. Micheletto arched his back and only barely managed to stifle the deep moan that escaped him.

“Don’t hold back”, Cesare growled, lips so close to his ear that he could feel his hot breath. “I want to hear you scream.” He lent weight to his words when he pushed Michelettos shirt up and dragged his nails across his chest, drawing blood.

Micheletto let out a pained sound, something between a moan and a yell, but he relished the pain. It sent a rush of adrenaline and lust through his body that made it all worth it. “Again”, he said through gritted teeth. He felt his prick twitch at the mere thought of it.

Cesare smiled wickedly, a demon’s soul with an angel’s face. “With pleasure”, he said and raked his hand once more over Michelettos chest. At the same time he stroked his length with just the right amount of force to force him over the edge. Pain, lust and relief crashed and collapsed into each other like waves hitting a beach. Distantly, he was aware that Cesare came as well, his beautiful face taking on an expression of pure bliss.

 

* * *

 

Later, after they’d cleaned themselves off, they lay next to each other in the grass, still utterly content. The rabbits were slowly cooking over the fire Micheletto had made at some point.

“We should get these looked at”, Cesare said lazily and made a vague gesture in the direction of Michelettos torso.

“They’re just scratches”, Micheletto said, bemused. “I’ll live.” He didn’t say that Cesare had already done worse to him, marked his body in a way that would never fade, but the words hung heavy between them nonetheless.

“Still”, Cesare continued after a long silence. “I don’t want to risk it. People I can trust have always been in short supply and I won’t give the universe a chance to take even one of them.”

A strange feeling bloomed inside Micheletto’s chest as he heard those words. Warm and fuzzy, halfway between joy and pride. He’d been with Cesare long enough to know without the shadow of a doubt that the only person his lord unequivocally cared about was his sister. And now he had ascended into this illustrious circle, it seemed.

“I’ll see a _dottore_ once we’re back”, he promised quietly.


End file.
